


Exceptions

by micehell



Category: Stargate Atlantis
Genre: Humor, M/M, fluff and sex (and maybe a touch of angst)
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2007-01-05
Updated: 2007-01-05
Packaged: 2017-11-12 04:11:31
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,040
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/486537
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/micehell/pseuds/micehell
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Who would have guessed that turning old could be so much fun?</p>
            </blockquote>





	Exceptions

**Author's Note:**

> In my head, this is part of my Ex- series (though calling it a series is pushing it... more vaguely connected stories ;), hence the title, but as neither of the people who test read this knew that when they read it, I'm guessing you don't have to have even heard of the others, let alone read them. ;)

The package was sitting on his desk when he got in that morning. Knowing who it was likely to be from, he approached it with caution, but he didn't see any suspicious wires, there was no ticking, and he couldn't feel any of the almost-not-there tug on his ATA gene, so he figured it was safe enough to open it.

Tearing through the wrapping paper -- made up of ads for toupees and hair replacement offers -- he found a crumpled piece of notebook paper inside, folded around a _Star Trek_ action figure. In Rodney's distinctive hand was a note reading, _I know I always call you Kirk, but there's something about this one that reminds me of you, too._

Self-consciously rubbing his ears, he smiled. The gift was perfectly Rodney; a strangely endearing fusion of annoying and thoughtful. He sat the Spock doll next to the Kirk that he'd gotten for Christmas. Their plastic bodies clicked against each other as he positioned them, but John thought they seemed friendly in their stiff, awkward closeness. Kind of like their 'real' life counterparts, hiding a depth of feeling beneath an outer shell -- one casually charming, the other logically sardonic -- closer to each other than their limited emotional vocabulary could say.

John wondered if maudlin sentimentality was another symptom of getting old, like the crow's feet growing around his eyes, and the little roll that was trying to make inroads on his waistline. Deciding that that train of thought could only lead to more time spent looking in the mirror searching for gray hairs, he decided to go with one of his tried and true methods of dealing with things he didn't want to think about.

He commed Teyla. "What are you up to this fine morning?"

Her voice held her usual warmth, but was faintly hesitant. Teyla was always a little suspicious of him when he said things like fine morning, though he had to admit it was usually with good reason. "Nothing at the moment. Did you have need of me?"

"I was just wondering if you wanted to go to the gym with me to kick my ass around. Oops, I mean, to spar."

Even without being able to see her, John knew her eyes were narrowing at that, a seeming disapproval overlying the sly amusement underneath. "I would be happy to spar with you. I will meet you… and your ass in five minutes."

John left his office laughing, thinking that maybe being forty wouldn't be so bad after all. Outside the door he paused, then turned back, rearranging the dolls from friendly to something a little more intimate. After all, why should he be the only one having a good time?

::::::::::

During lunch, he got up to get himself another drink and came back to find another package sitting on his tray. He looked around for the culprit, but Rodney must have blackmailed someone else into delivering it. A quick inspection again turned up no signs of anything more suspicious than the box itself, which, from the information stamped on the side of it, had at one time contained 24 units of 100-count Geritol Complete. But instead of the advertised pills, the box now held a cocoon of Depends, all nestled around a model plane.

John pushed the box aside, idly wondering how Rodney had got Depends to Atlantis without his hearing about it, but much more interested in his new plane. He gave it a quick swoop before he remembered there were other people around him. Trying for cool and casual, he didn't turn to see if they were looking, but he felt the tips of his ears grow warm, and figured they'd probably remind Rodney more of Rudolph right now than Spock.

Focusing on the plane, he realized it was the same model as the one he'd kept on his desk back at the SGC. Then he realized it was actually the same plane, the dent one of his more ill advised aerial maneuvers had produced still marring the underside of one wing. He'd left it behind when he'd left Earth, knowing he might very well never see either again, and missing both of them with only a tiny pang.

He gave the plane another small swoop, not even caring if he had an audience. When he'd left Earth that last time, he'd taken with him all the things that he really would have missed. But, still, it was nice to have the plane.

He looked up when Lorne dropped his tray across from him, smiling his greeting. Neither of them got much lunch eaten that day, lost in pilot speak as they bragged about what they'd flown, mourned what they hadn't, and, embarrassingly, kind of gushed about how superior 'jumpers were to all of that, though there was a bit wistful remembrance at the feel of pulling a lot of G's. The model passed back and forth between them, illustrating maneuvers and positions, both of them unable to keep from making whooshing noises as they played out their stories, but neither one of them really caring either. Though that might change when someone brought it up later.

Back in his office, John chewed on a Powerbar to make up for the lunch he'd not eaten. He put the plane next to Spock and Kirk -- still going at it with all the stamina of the forever young and plastic -- and leaned back in his chair, hands behind his head, enjoying his downtime, enjoying his toys. Maybe this birthday thing wasn't as bad as he'd thought after all.

::::::::::

There was another package sitting on his bed when he knocked off for the evening. It was wrapped in blue and gray, and kind of rumpled from a hard day in the physics mines, but John unwrapped it with all the care he'd given to the others. He licked his way down what he'd uncovered, enjoying the whimper he got when he lightly scraped his teeth across one sensitive nipple.

He was taking his time, detouring whenever a piece of flesh took his interest, but Rodney was apparently not in the mood for the scenic route, rolling them both over until John was underneath him, Rodney's already hard cock pushing into John's hip, making his own cock swell in anticipation.

Running his hand down Rodney's back, kneading the firm mounds of his ass, he rocked up against the weight lying on him, the friction of flesh and constriction of movement adding to his arousal. He began to share in Rodney's impatience, the need that being with Rodney created in him, that he could never _quite_ label, driving him on. But though he might not be able to categorize all the parts that made up that need, some of them he could name quite easily. "Fuck me."

Rodney paused in his assault on John's ear, his voice a soft breath against it. "Are you sure? Because it's your birthday, and I'm kind of, almost willing to do anything you want here."

John laughed at the qualified gift, knowing that he'd never ask for something that Rodney wouldn't at least try to give him, both of them comfortable with the other's limits. Sometimes John got too lost in his own head to enjoy penetration, but he knew where he was tonight, and he knew what he wanted. "Fuck me, Rodney. Fuck me now."

"Well, you still sound kind of uncertain about the whole thing, but I guess I could bring myself to try," Rodney said quickly, hands already reaching for the lube, slicking thick fingers that pushed deep into John while he willed himself to open around them, his knee-jerk resistance to penetration fading into warmth and desire. The sarcasm and manual dexterity were two of his favorite things about Rodney.

He was also pretty fond of the oral dexterity, especially when Rodney sucked lightly on the head of his cock while his fingers brushed unerringly against the spot that made the burn of penetration turn into fire in his veins. "Please, Rodney," was all he could answer, not sure exactly what he was asking for.

Rodney pulled back, and John groaned at the loss of his mouth, but he stretched his legs around Rodney's waist, pulling him back close, shivering when their cocks brushed against each other.

He gripped John's hips, shoving them a little back and up as he said, "Hey, not so tight or I won't be able to get - okay, never mind, I've got it," as he slipped inside, both of them groaning a little as he inched his way in. Rodney stopped moving when he was fully inside, his face screwed up in concentration, and John didn't push, not wanting this to end too soon, and needing a moment to adjust himself.

Rodney opened his eyes again, as blue and amazed as they always were when they did this, but he had that worried little frown pulling down at the corner of his mouth as he palmed John's softened cock. "Did I go too fast?"

John squeezed his ass tight around the cock holding so still in him, enjoying the sensation fully now that the pain had passed. "Nope. Just needed a moment to adjust."

Unable to help himself, Rodney's hips stuttered forward, the urge to thrust warring with his need to make sure that John wasn't lying to him, so John pushed back against him, slowly fucking himself until Rodney couldn't stand it any longer, speeding their rhythm up, angling himself to go deeper. The occasional stroke on his prostate and the large hand pumping his cock soon had him hard again, but it didn't stop Rodney from saying, his voice thin from effort and humor, "I ordered you some Viagra, in case you need it."

Pushing up into hard calluses and back onto hard cock, John's grunted, "not yet," giving way to a hiss on a snarkily polite, "thanks," as Rodney came, hand reflexively tightening, all the stimulus John needed to follow him.

Getting his breath back, John levered an extremely relaxed Rodney off of him, wishing one of them had remembered a towel. Snagging Rodney's shirt off the floor, he cleaned them up, his own shirt serving as a somewhat thin barrier between him and the wet spot, but John was philosophical about it. Minutes of pleasure, hours of chafing; it was the price of sex, and if he crowded up close enough to Rodney, it wasn't too bad. And well worth it.

All of Rodney's less than subtle digs about his age in mind, John said, "You realize that in just a little over a year, you're going to find out that payback's a bitch."

Rodney didn't even pretend to not understand, too tired and sated -- and unconcerned -- to try to dissemble. Voice slurring towards sleep, he said, "Sure, sure. As if you old people can remember anything that long."

John had had a good birthday, far better than most he could remember. Rodney's jokes about memory aside, he could recall the others far too easily -- well, except for his nineteenth, the year he'd been grandfathered into legal drinking. That memory was still thankfully a blur. But the others, though easily remembered, weren't often fondly so, and he certainly hadn't had any great hopes for this one. But then everything about Atlantis tended to be an exception to the rules, and a birthday filled with friends and toys, and sex and Rodney was just another in a long line of them.

He owed a lot of that to the man he shared his bed with, and even though Rodney was joking about the senility, he was still right in a way. John might not _get_ to remember to make Rodney's own fortieth birthday special. So best to enjoy what time they had.

Rodney made a satisfying thunk when John pushed him off the bed, his startled squawk giving way to a string of abuse, most of it centered around John's suspect mental capacity, but John just grinned, leaning down to kiss him. Fate aside, he was going to do his best to make Rodney's fortieth birthday as memorable as John's. Who would have guessed that turning old could be so much fun?

/story


End file.
